They might lament-for I am one Whom men love not,—and yet regret, Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. WILT thou forget the happy hours Heaping over their corpses cold Blossoms and leaves, instead of mould? Blossoms which were the joys that fell, And leaves, the hopes that yet remain. II. Forget the dead, the past? O yet There are ghosts that may take revenge for it, Regrets which glide through the spirit's gloom, And with ghastly whispers tell That joy, once lost, is pain. PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES. LISTEN, listen, Mary mine, To the whisper of the Apennine, It bursts on the roof like the thunder's roar, By the captives pent in the cave below. Is a mighty mountain dim and grey, And the Apennine walks abroad with the storm. INVOCATION TO MISERY. I. COME, be happy!— sit by me, Coy, unwilling, silent bride, Mourning in thy robe of pride, Desolation - deified! II. Come, be happy!— sit near me : Is endiademed with woe. ΠΙ. Misery! we have known each other, Like a sister and a brother Living in the same lone home, Many years—we must live some Hours or ages yet to come. IV. 'Tis an evil lot, and yet This heart's Hell seem Paradise. V. Come, be happy !· lie thee down On the fresh grass newly mown, Where the Grasshopper doth sing Merrily one joyous thing In a world of sorrowing! VI. There our tent shall be the willow, Sounds and odours sorrowful Because they once were sweet, shall lull Us to slumber, deep and dull. VII. Ha! thy frozen pulses flutter With a love thou darest not utter. Thou art murmuring-thou art weeping Is thine icy bosom leaping While my burning heart lies sleeping? VIII. Kiss me; -oh! thy lips are cold: IX. Hasten to the bridal bed- In darkness may our love be hid. We may rest, and none forbid. X. Clasp me till our hearts be grown In the sleep that lasts alway. XI. We may dream, in that long sleep, Thou mayst dream of her with me. XII. Let us laugh, and make our mirth, XIII. All the wide world, beside us Show like multitudinous Puppets passing from a scene; What but mockery can they mean, Where I am - where thou hast been? I B I I K d A A |